The Defiant Princess (4 page)

She knew exactly what he'd see. She'd inherited her mother's Nordic height, straight blonde hair, deep blue eyes and clear complexion. Except for her more deeply tanned skin, she could be her mother's double. But, her mother had been a queen. There wasn't anything regal-looking or glamorous about Sabrina in her striped cotton blouse and denim jeans. Strands of her hair had escaped from her ponytail and her forehead felt a bit sticky with perspiration from her weeding in the garden. Even less impressive was the fact she hadn't stopped to brush the dirt from under her fingernails when she'd come in, too hurried from hearing her aunt's distress.

No wonder he appeared slightly stunned. She probably did look like something the cat had dragged in. Still, she hadn't asked him to visit. He'd given her no warning and he was seventeen years too late. This was who she was now. She enjoyed gardening on a Sunday afternoon, so he could take his opinion of her appearance and go to blazes.

“My name is—”

“Prince Khalid Ul-Haq,” she said before he could finish. His eyes widened just a fraction, and she knew a moment's satisfaction seeing him thrown off balance by her knowledge of his identity.

“Oh,” Helen whispered in shock. “You know? How much do you know?”

Sabrina tore her eyes away from Khalid's and saw her aunt grip the back of a chair. Helen looked like she was about to faint. “Aunt Helen, sit down.” She rushed to help Helen into the chair, but Khalid was already there, settling her aunt down and telling her to breathe.

“It's okay, Helen. It's all okay,” Sabrina said reassuringly.

“But …” the older woman gulped. “I thought you'd forgotten. I tried to help you forget.”

Sabrina shook her head and placed a steadying hand on Helen's shoulder. “I understand. You explained when we changed my name that my mother wanted you to establish a new identity for me. But my father told me I must always remember who I am.”

“You were so young. You stopped asking questions. I was sure you'd forgotten.”

“I could
never
forget.”

“You know who your parents were?” Prince Khalid quizzed, his dark eyebrows set in a frown.

“Of course.” She took a deep breath and spoke the truth aloud. “My father was King Akram, ruler of Rhajia.”

“You are Princess Sabihah,” he confirmed as his tawny-gold eyes fixed on her with intimidating concentration.

Willing her heart to stop beating its unsteady tattoo against her ribcage, Sabrina extended her hand to him. “I'm just plain Sabrina now.”

For a moment he hesitated, and the blood rushed to her cheeks as she recalled she was still grubby from her gardening. Then her hand was clasped in his firm grip and she felt a dizzying zap of electricity arc through her. Her lungs seemed paralysed, refusing to take in air as she stood still, her hand caught in his, her eyes ensnared by his gaze.

Did he feel this strange current of energy pulsing between them?

Sabrina fought to gain control of reactions that were in danger of spinning wildly out of control. She looked away from his eyes, but the result was worse as she focused instead on the full sensuousness of his lips. Her heart lurched and her lungs sucked in a quick breath.

Dangerously good-looking. The man should come with a warning label.

It was no wonder she was reacting to him in a totally primal way, but she had to get over this and focus on why he was there. She swallowed and willed her heart rate to steady. “My father told me your father or brother would come for me one day when it was safe.”

“But it's not safe!” Helen interjected, jumping to her feet. “It'll never be safe while Mustaf's in power.”

Khalid released her hand and the intensity of the spell was broken. “Regrettably, my brother is dead.”

“I know and I'm sorry,” Sabrina told him with sincerity. She saw the flash of pain in his eyes before a mask seemed to fall into place over his features. “I read about his death in the newspaper.”

“That madman Mustaf probably murdered Prince Hazim, too,” Helen suggested in shrill tones.

“Is it true Mustaf was behind the assassination of my parents?” It was important to Sabrina to know the truth. It seemed impossible to her that one brother could kill another to assume power—though that type of treachery went back to Biblical times.

His head tilted as his eyes continued to bore into her. “That's our belief, but it's never been proven.”

“I can't believe you've known …” Helen told her as she dropped back into her chair.

Sabrina bit on her lower lip. Her thoughts turned to the man who now ruled Rhajia. “I've read about Mustaf.”

“He's evil, Sabrina,” Helen warned. “If he finds out you're alive, he'll have you killed.”

“So, he doesn't know about me?” she asked Khalid.

Khalid shook his head. “Not as far as I know. I agree with Helen. If he'd known, you would not have survived. However, it is possible that he will learn of your existence due to all the coverage you've recently had in the media.”

“This is exactly what I've been afraid of, Sabrina,” Helen said with despair. “Oh, I wish that accident had never happened! We've been hidden away all these years …”

“My father requests you return to Turastan with me. You will be under our protection.”

“Why?” Sabrina asked, although she was sure she already knew the answer.

“Absolutely not!” Helen declared.

Their visitor remained super calm in the face of Helen's rising hysteria. “He plans to approach the Arab Council and have you recognised as the rightful ruler of Rhajia.”

“Mustaf will never allow that to happen. He'll kill her first,” Helen insisted.

Sabrina pulled a chair over and sat down beside Helen. “I knew this day would come,” she told the woman who held such a special place in her heart. “My father wanted me to rule Rhajia.”

“Your mother wanted to keep you safe.” Helen took Sabrina's hand between hers. “That demon took their lives. You can't go back. You have to stay safe with me. I promised your mother.”

Squeezing the hands that had kept her safe for so long, Sabrina told her, “You've been a mother to me. My parents couldn't have chosen anyone better.”

“And you've been the daughter I never had.” Helen's eyes were awash with tears. “You're happy here. You're a wonderful teacher. All the students love you.”

Before she could respond, the prince spoke; “You are the Crown Princess of Rhajia, Sabihah. It's time for you to claim your throne.”

Every one of her muscles tensed in rejection of his dictatorial decree. Returning to Rhajia had been something she'd thought long and hard about—lost sleep over. As much as she'd tried, she could not see herself as ruler of the small Arabian nation. “My name is now Sabrina St. George and I'm a primary school teacher.” Her jaw tightened as she closed her eyes and forced out the last words. “Despite what my father wished, I am no longer a princess.”

Helen squeezed her hands while the prince expelled an impatient hiss of breath. Opening her eyes, Sabrina recognised condemnation etched into each of his features, but she would not allow him to dispute her decision—and he didn't have the right to judge her. She was the one who had to live with her choice, even though she knew it would have disappointed her father.

“You are needed in Rhajia.”

“My life is here in Australia and my students need me,” she said, her voice unwavering.

“She'll stay alive here!” Helen's words bolstered her.

Khalid ignored the older woman, his eyes never straying from Sabrina. “The needs of your pupils cannot even begin to compete with the current needs of the Rhajian people.”

“And what about what I need?”

He continued as though she hadn't spoken. “The good you can do as Princess of Rhajia will have more far-reaching effects than any positive impact you have on your students.”

She glared and took a couple a steps towards him. “I have no desire to be princess of anything. Go back to Turastan and tell your father my answer is no.” It was time to show him the door. She reached out and extended her arm so that her fingers could curl around his bicep. Against the firm muscle, her fingers felt like jelly. She attempted to tug him toward the door, but he resisted.

“Your schoolmarm tone might work on school children but I am not one of them,” he retorted. “It's time to grow up and accept your responsibilities.”

“Please go,” Helen pleaded with Khalid but he ignored her completely. “Sabrina? Please get him to go away.”

All good in theory except that the Crown Prince was standing his ground.

“You realise you're a threat to Mustaf's rule?” he continued relentlessly.

“Your visit here and your father's investigations may have already placed her in danger,” Helen accused.

Sabrina shook her head. “There must be a way I can—” she searched for the word, “—abdicate. If I can give him power legally then I won't be a threat to him any longer and he can forget all about me.” She breathed out slowly and went to lean her back against the wall. Heaven knew she needed some physical support to keep her upright. This encounter was sapping her strength. She watched the prince closely. He looked as though he was all but gnashing his teeth together in irritation. The very concept of abdication seemed abhorrent to him.

He pointed a finger at her. “Rhajia is your birthright. Your responsibility. You cannot abdicate.”

She straightened, determined to make him see things from her point of view. “I don't want this so-called birthright!”

“You cannot turn your back on your people.”

“They're not
my
people!” she protested hotly. “They would have forgotten me by now, and I wouldn't relate to them.”

He released a short expletive in his native tongue and paced away from her with angry strides before rounding on her. “You don't realise the enormity of this situation. The Rhajians are suffering under Mustaf's tyrannical rule. To abdicate would allow him to continue the misery. You can stop him. You must step up and help your country.”

“For heaven's sake, you make me sound like some Messiah!” She raised her hands in helpless exasperation. “I'm a really great teacher, but I haven't got the first clue how to go about running a country.”

“You will learn.”

“No.” Both Sabrina and Helen spoke the denial in unison.

“Six months under my
rule
and I'd probably make such a mess of it, I'd have not just Mustaf but every single person in the country wanting to kill me.” Sabrina turned toward Helen and sent her a reassuring look. “Don't let this upset you, Aunt Helen. The prince must surely see that this whole idea of me becoming a ruler of a nation is ludicrous.”

“You won't be alone,” he said. “I'll be by your side to guide you each step of the way. You will also have the support of all the countries in the Arab Council.”

“The way the Council supported my father?” Fury bubbled in her veins as she eyed him with defiance. “
Not—going—to—happen
.”

His eyes narrowed in irritation at their clash of wills. Each trying to make the other see their own perspective was like trying to bring two magnetic North poles together. Her resistance was as fierce as his resolve but he would not break her down. He needed to understand that her mind was made up.

“Since Mustaf had your parents murdered,” he told her with chilling bluntness, “it's reported that he's tortured and murdered anyone who dares to criticise his rule.”

“Don't you dare try to make Sabrina feel responsible for that!” Helen moved to stand between them. “If the Arab Council can't set things to right, what chance would she have?”

Khalid continued to look past Helen, his focus entirely on Sabrina. “The oil wealth of Rhajia won't continue indefinitely, but he's made no provision for that reality. While he exploits others and grows fat and rich, many people in Rhajia are malnourished. Hospital and educational facilities your father worked hard to build up and modernise have been allowed to fall into disrepair.”

Despite herself, she was aware of a heaviness settling around her heart. “Surely it can't be as hopeless as you make out? There must be another solution.”

He sidestepped around Helen to face Sabrina again. His hands were extended, palms up, as he implored her to understand. “You are the only solution. It's growing worse every day.”

“Now, just you listen here—” Helen began as Sabrina struggled to come to terms with the enormity of the situation.

“If people are suffering and I'm the solution, why have you left it seventeen years to come for me?” She regretted the accusing words as soon as she uttered them. They contained the built-up disappointment, hurt, resentment and anger she'd lived with all this time.

As she went to turn away from him, he reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders. The simple, arresting gesture left her exposed to his regard. In a matter of seconds it was as though he'd cut through all the protective layers she'd built up and penetrated right into her soul, identifying all her conflicting emotions.

She took a reflexive step back, and he released her. She needed to put some distance between herself and the prince. Nobody was ever allowed to see her pain. She'd hidden the turmoil of her heart from Helen, yet in less than five minutes Khalid's presence forced it to the surface.

“My father tried unsuccessfully to locate you years ago. He stopped searching as he feared word of his investigations might place you in danger if Mustaf learned you were still alive. He accepted your mother's wishes and allowed you to carve a new life for yourself.”

“So, why come now?” As she awaited his response, she was only vaguely aware that Helen had slumped back into the chair and buried her face behind her hands.